


Pray

by Apollynos



Series: Humanity - Saints and Sinner [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, Historical Hetalia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, War, resistenza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 04:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apollynos/pseuds/Apollynos
Summary: >>Are there any happy Endings?<<*1944 - The last stages of the war in Europe have begun, as has the desire for a new life for Antonio, former soldier of the Eastern Front but his life changed 180 degrees one day when he made a fateful encounter with a young men from the italian resistance.





	1. Memories

>>Hallo Antonio,

I was very happy to read from you.  
I'm fine, I've settled in really well and I can finally live in peace with everything.  
I'm glad that you are alright and your small suggestion about visiting you sounds really good, maybe we can actually put that into action someday? I miss your company, Kumpel.

Bis bald, Gilbert.<<

"You crazy Prussian," Antonio smiled as he read the letter, he placed it next to him on the stone floor of the terrace and stubbed out the cigarette, then he continued to tune the guitar to play something on it.  
He had recently heard a beautiful song on the radio and remembered the melody of this very well, so he want to play it.

At some point he actually had the sounds so far that Antonio was satisfied with it. He began plucking the strings, listening to the sweet sounds the instrument made in his hands. Smiling blissfully, he looked into the sky and began to play, while he hummed the lyrics to it.

He didn't know how long he played but it felt like an eternity, he wished it would never end.  
The moments could have stayed that way forever, he thought.  
Sighing, he set the guitar aside and ran his hand through his dark curly hair.  
He wanted nothing more than to have Gilbert and Francis here. Don't misunderstand Antonio he liked his life here in southern Italy in his little house with the lively exchange of letters between him and Gilbert, but he miss this physical contact.

And Francis ... He exhaled in frustration. He knew for sure that the Frenchman would not come back.  
He had seen it and he wished he could turn back time.

But time just kept going. Time walked unstoppably.

He closed his eyes briefly to fight down the burgeoning tears. It was now almost a year since the incident. He wanted to get away from it and that meant not thinking about it any further.

Antonio stood up, picked up the ashtray and the guitar, then opened the patio door to his house and entered.  
He set the guitar down by the door and the small ashtray on the wooden table, which also served as a dining table.

"I think he's here!" He heard a harsh voice screaming german from the outside. Annoyed, Antonio rolled his eyes and headed for the front door as it knocked.  
He opened the door and faced two black uniformed men who were glanced dangerously at him.  
"Did you see a little italian loitering around here?" The one man asked harshly, glaring at Antonio with blue eyes. It always fascinated him how stubborn these germans were and just talked to him in german. He was lucky enough to understand a little german, he tried to answer in a mixture out of german and spanish "I'm sorry, I do not have seen anyone here."  
The officer in front of him hissed contemptuously, "That was so clear. If you see something, then give it over to us without delay or you'll be punished too, Spaniard!"

The two Officers rushed off, leaving Antonio somewhat confused. Shaking his head, he went back into the house.  
It was clear, so clear.  
Since you are already fighting on the side of the Germans on the Eastern Front and you still be treated like dirt.  
Only missing that the man spit at his feet and it would be a perfect Image of how the german Officers treated others.

The eastern front.  
At the thought it shook him and he squinted, rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried to breathe more calmly.  
He would not remember what happened there.

Bitter, however, he had to laugh.  
The volunteer soldiers of the blue division.  
Voluntary.  
He hated that word, nothing was voluntary at all.

Not in Wartime.

However, he would never have met Francis and Gilbert.  
He smiled sadly.  
It would have pleased him rather, if these unfortunate circumstances would not have been necessary.

Antonio opened his eyes and noticed a small trace of blood on the floor. He stared in disbelief at the red fresh spots.  
He walked over to the small sideboard in the hallway and opened the drawer, took his revolver-the only thing he had kept from the Eastern Front-and secured it. He followed the trail of blood, carefully pushed the door into the cellar and crept down the stone steps. Suspicious, he narrowed his eyes, sharpening his sense of hearing as he heard a slight shocked gasp and a click. With his weapon raised, he turned in the direction of the sound, only to look directly into the barrel of a weapon aimed at him.  
He squinted past it and looked into the big dark eyes of a boy who was looking at him in pain and fear. The hand firmly around the handle of the pistol, his finger trembling on the trigger.

Antonio's eyes softened, but he kept the gun pointed at him. The Spaniard lowered his eyes slightly and looked at his injured leg, blood running out of the dark trouser leg and forming a small puddle on the stone floor.

"You're injured," he stated in a broken italian, looking back into the eyes of his counterpart, who only narrowed his eyes and replied sharply. "Weapon down or I'll shoot!"


	2. Worth it?

The grip on Lovino's gun tightened, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked at stranger, displacing the pain in his leg. The other man eyed him with an indefinable look out of green eyes, Lovino noticed that the left eye had a rather milky color.  
And he could see something in his eyes, there was concern in his eyes. But why?  
He shook his head slightly and concentrated again; Nonsense, as if someone else was worried about him.

"You're injured, "said the man as he looked at his leg.  
Lovino let out a throaty growl. What does this bastard think of? He was injured himself, Lovino noticed. Beneath the man's collar flashed the onset of a burn injury that seemed to reach to his right arm.

"Gun away or I'll shoot!" Lovino repeated himself sharply, trying to keep his hand from shaking and blinking away the rising tears in his eyes.

"It's okay, look, I'll put down my gun," said the man calmly, raising his hands with the gun in his right hand and placing it carefully on the stone floor.  
"And now you, I'm sure we can sort this out without violence," he suggested, looking at him.

Lovino just shook his head, he tightened the grip around the gun so his knuckles showed white.  
"You're blind on one eye, I don't understand how you ever wanted to aim."  
The man laughed bitterly. "Believe me, if I tell you that you can train everything and now put your gun down, boy!"

Lovino winced at the stranger's sudden change of tone, and he dropped the gun slightly.  
"But I will not put it down," he said firmly, staring at him with dark eyes; His counterpart only nodded when Lovino became dizzy. A roar came into his ears and the vision blurred in front of his eyes, that had been a bit too much for his body. He tried to concentrate, but before he could do anything, his body finally took what he wanted and his eyes went black.

*

Antonio had seen how pale the boy suddenly became, he reached forward and took the gun from his hand before catching him. The blood loss and the excitement must have knocked him out. He reached carefully under his knees and put his other arm around his slender torso before picking him up and carrying him into the living room, where he put him down on the sofa and got bandages out of the bathroom.  
Antonio cut open the pant leg of the boy and looked at the wound. A bullet wound just below the kneecap.

"You were really lucky amigo," he muttered softly in Spanish, then began to cleaned and bandage the wound.  
When he had finished, he cleared the things and got a glass of water from the kitchen, so that the boy could drink something as soon as he woke up. Antonio sat down opposite of him at the small wooden table and lit a cigarette, he stroked himself through his dark wavy hair and looked at the calm breathing body of the young stranger.

Damn. Who had he actually treated here?  
He definitely felt well practiced handling the gun, a little anxious and uncertain perhaps, but clearly skilled with it. As he took another pull of the cigarette and inhaled the smoke deep, his gaze slid thoughtfully over the small body.  
Reddish brown hair, an interesting unruly curl, and those big dark eyes he had looked at. He felt like he was losing himself in this ocean of emotions that lay in the dark golden eyes.

How exactly did he think about the boy on his sofa? He might not be older than 18, he should better not think about him like that. Sighing, Antonio shook off his thoughts and squeezed out the burnt-out cigarette in the ashtray.

Lovino had no idea how long he was absent but fact was that his leg hurt like hell. He grimaced and blinked, looking straight into the light falling from the ceiling. Confused, he leaned his arm against the soft ground and heaved himself up a bit. Sharply, he sucked in a breath as a stinging pain ran through his leg, he let out a silent curse and looked around, his eyes stuck to the foreign Spaniard. He gasped in surprise and pressed himself closer to the pad behind him, looking at the man anxiously.

What would he do with him? Hand him over to the Gestapo? Did he even know that he was from the Resistenza?

"You should not strain yourself yet. Your leg is badnaged and stabilized so far, but you should better rest a little," said the man gently and a warm smile played around his narrow lips.  
Lovino only nodded in understanding and looked down at himself, his right leg was bandaged and layed down on a few pillows, that keep it up.

"Why did you help me bastard? Why didn't you just put me out or kill me?" he asked harshly and gave him a suspicious look, he noticed how the man let out a dry laugh and ran his hand through the dark curls, then he fixed him with a haunting look and said, "You know, I've seen and experienced so much suffering, a nice gesture in these times has never hurt anyone."

Lovino lowered his eyes and felt a warm feeling creeping up in him, he nodded slowly, before he said bitterly "In these times you can't do much good. Nothing good will happen again. "  
"I understand."  
The Italian hadn't necessarily expected such an answer and looked up uncertainly, scrutinizing the facial expressions of his counterpart - He looked tired and worn out.

"I have to go home," Lovino finally said as the silence getting uncomfortable for him.  
The Spaniard only nodded, he seemed mindedly absent, as he spoke "But you can't go yet."  
"Why not?"  
"The mood out there is still too risky. I guess you ran away from the germans for a reason? They will probably still search for you."  
"And even if, what does that matter to you?"

He saw the Spaniard shrug his shoulders and look at him thoughtfully, "Actually, I don't really care, but for now it's safer for you to stay here."  
"And then what? What will you do with me?"  
"Nothing. I just offer to stay here and cure you out until the situation outside calms down a bit."

Lovino didn't quite understand why the stranger was so friendly to him. Lovino literally broke into his house and aimed a gun at him. And still... He just offered him to stay here. The Italian shook his head vigorously. "But I have to go home. I have a little brother. He is waiting for me. He has no one else but me. "

Without expression, the spaniards green eyes looked at him, a tired smile on his face and only a sympathetic nod. Irritated, Lovino just looked at him, sat up a bit further and tried to move his leg slightly.  
It hurt, but it was possible, he got shakily to his feet and while he stood up, he didn't take his eyes off the Spaniard for a moment - he still mistrusted him, after all, he was still a stranger and he had no idea whose side he was nor what his ambitions was. Slowly Lovino strode backwards towards the door when he heard a shot from the outside.

*

Antonio jumped up when he heard the shot and walk past Lovino to the small window, pushed the curtain aside a bit and looked out. He could make out two Germans who were aiming at something with rifles, he followed the barrel of the rifles and saw a man sliding down the tree. A smooth shot between the eyes. The Spaniard grimaced and turned around.

"You're not going anywhere, little one," he ordered, giving him a silent pleading not to contradict.  
The Italian actually didn't noticed it, he pushed past him to look out of the window. He heard the Italien take a shocked breath and then saw him staggering backwards from the window, his hand over his mouth and his eyes big and wet.  
Antonio felt sorry for him and said quietly "You should not see something like that."  
"I've seen worse, but," he paused, his last words just a whisper. "I knew that man."  
"I'm sorry," Antonio muttered, placing a gentle hand on the boy's narrow shoulder, earning a venomous look, but Antonio didn't care that much.   
"Please sit down again, or your leg's healing will take even longer."

The Italian just nodded and went over to the sofa, he lay down exhausted and stroked the sweaty reddish hair from his face.  
"By the way, I'm Antonio," he introduced himself and gave the boy a warm, encouraging smile: "And you?"  
"I don't know what that matter to you," the Italian answered.  
"It doesn't matter to me, but so I would know who I've bandaged, you understand? It also makes communication easier," he explained, cocking his head.  
"Lovino," he sighed and hung up, "No word to anyone, I'm off tomorrow and we forget what happened."

Lovino, then. That was a nice name for such a handsome boy. On Antonio's lips, a pleased smirk appeared and he nodded. "Si, of course."  
"Good," Lovino said, looking back at the window. "Be honest, why did you really help me?"  
"Unfortunately, I have a heart that's too good to leave injured handsome boys in my basement and let them bleed to death," Antonio answered in an exaggerated tone. He couldn't stay harsh and taciturn for long, and something moved Lovino in him.

"I understand. Well then, I hope it was worth it for you. And don't call me handsome again you creep!" Lovino said and turned his face away from Antonio, to hide a slightly red blush on his cheeks.

Antonio smiled at this reaction.  
Yes. It was worth it for him...


End file.
